


Freely Given

by TheExplodingPen



Series: what's mine is yours to make your own [4]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Dom!Clint Barton, Dom/sub, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Praise Kink, Sub!Pietro Maximoff, Triggers, limits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 17:20:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5936598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheExplodingPen/pseuds/TheExplodingPen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I want to talk about what you like,” Clint says, and his voice is rough and quiet, enough emotion there that it makes Pietro look up, his expression softer. “What you don't like. What makes you think about shit that's happened to you. What we're doing here, it's serious. I know it's fun and it makes you focus and fuck knows I haven't met a person yet who didn't enjoy orgasms, but if we're going to do this, then we're going to do it right.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Freely Given

After the second time the kid comes to him, shaking uncontrollably and asking if Clint can make him _focus_ , the archer figures it's time for a talk. What they're doing is working well enough, but he still hasn't let the younger man touch him, and they haven't done anything past hand jobs and a little light power exchange. Pietro always calls him 'sir' and submits beautifully, but Clint's more than a little wary about going farther, especially when they haven't had a discussion about what the kid's okay with.

That's Clint's fault, but Pietro hasn't exactly made it easy for him. The kid's willing enough when he comes to Clint and asks for it, but outside of that and training, he's nowhere to be found. Clint's pretty sure Pietro's avoiding him, though if it's because he feels ashamed of what he needs or embarrassed that he's getting it from Clint, he just doesn't know.

So maybe he's a little underhanded in how he goes about getting Pietro to talk. So far, he hasn't initiated any of their little... sessions, and he knows the kid's surprised when all of a sudden one day, after training, he slides up behind him and murmurs, “Meet me in my room,” in his ear. At Pietro's questioning glance, he just grins and winks, and hopes that it'll intrigue him enough that he'll come by.

It does.

The kid's got his hands in his pockets and his shoulders hunched over a little, and he's bouncing on the balls of his feet when Clint opens the door. Restless, but not to the point where they'll need to do something about it, which is good. Clint just wants to talk, hold the kid if things get too intense for him, but as far as scenes go, he doesn't want to do any more with those until they have clearly defined boundaries.

“You wanted to see me?” Pietro says, and at the moment, Clint wants nothing more than to pull the kid forward and slide his arms around that tapered waist. He likes those kind of touches, the innocent ones, like cuddling, and he hasn't gotten to have that with Pietro except for post-scene.

One more thing to talk about, he supposes.

“Come in,” he says, stepping aside to let Pietro inside. Usually, at this point in their interactions, Pietro's already half-undressed or pinned up against something, and it's evident in the confusion in his face that he's expecting that. But Clint doesn't touch him, just moves over to the bed and sits down, patting the space next to him. “Make yourself comfortable. We're just going to chat for a minute.”

Warily, Pietro sits, although he sits far enough away from Clint that they're not touching, at all. “What are we going to talk about?”

“What we're doing,” Clint answers, honestly, and Pietro's eyes flick to the door, as if he's gauging the distance, even though Clint knows that the speedster could be out of the building before he could even blink. Carefully, he shifts closer and puts a hand on Pietro's knee. “It's okay. You're not in trouble or anything, and I don't want to stop. I just want to talk so we can make it better in the future.”

Pietro looks down at the hand on his knee, and then up at Clint, and he's still wary. That's obvious in his eyes. But he's still there, and Clint's going to take that as a good sign, so he continues. “I know there's going to be things in this conversation that make you uncomfortable, so if you ever want to pause, or take a break, just tell me. We don't have to get it all done in one sitting.”

“I still do not understand what you want to talk about, old man.” Pietro's voice is unamused and terse, and it takes Clint a moment to realize the kid really doesn't know what's going on. He hasn't read the files on the twins that they took from HYDRA, hasn't been able to bring himself to, because knowing that they were hurt and used is one thing, but details? Details aren't something he wants. But he's starting to wonder if he should have, because he doesn't even know how old the kid was when they took him in. He doesn't know if Strucker and his men are the only way Pietro's been exposed to this kind of experience, this kind of touch.

“I want to talk about what you like,” Clint says, and his voice is rough and quiet, enough emotion there that it makes Pietro look up, his expression softer. “What you don't like. What makes you think about shit that's happened to you. What we're doing here, it's serious. I know it's fun and it makes you focus and fuck knows I haven't met a person yet who didn't enjoy orgasms, but if we're going to do this, then we're going to do it right."

He pauses, just long enough for that to sink in, and then continues. “These are gonna be some pretty heavy topics, all right? So if you need a break, _tell me. We'll take a break. And one more thing – when you tell me 'no' about something, and you will, because everyone has their list of things they're not okay with, it'll be a 'no'. You don't have to explain it if you don't want to. We can revisit the things you say no to later, but I'm not going to make you do anything here that you aren't okay with.”_

“Only in training, yes?” Pietro says, and his voice is quiet, but one corner of his mouth is curved up and that's enough of an 'okay' for Clint to lean over and ruffle the kid's hair. Pietro's still there, and that's more than Clint expected at this point in the conversation.

They're still doing the one-on-one trainings, even though Pietro started training with the rest of the team not too long after the first time Clint took him down. He says the group stuff isn't enough for him, but Clint's not entirely sure that's the kid's only motive. He does work Pietro harder when they're alone, pushes him to his limits and not past, and rewards him afterward by letting a _good boy_ fall carelessly from his lips.

God, he's an awful role model.

“Yeah,” Clint says, cracking a smile. “Just in training, because otherwise you're not gonna get any better.” He pauses. “Which you are, by the way. Even Steve noticed.”

Pietro blushes like Clint didn't just give him an offhand compliment, and really, it shouldn't do so much for him, but Clint likes it. He likes that praise gets the kid going, because it gives him a chance to tell him that he's _good_ without Pietro getting all up in arms about it.

“Anyway,” he continues, pretending, at least, to ignore Pietro's blush. “The most important thing that we have to talk about right now is your limits. I think I know a little about what you like, but you went through some shit, and I don't ever want what we do here to remind you of what happened to you. And before you start to tell me that -”

“Fire.”

Clint blinks. He'd had a whole little speech prepared, about how limits were fine, they were _healthy_ , that he had a few himself, but his mouth just kind of closes, because Pietro's staring intently down at his lap, fingers clenched tightly into fists, and... _oh_.

“C'mere, kid,” Clint murmurs, and lets Pietro all but fold into his side when he raises his arm. “Yeah. No fire. Take a deep breath for me?You're okay. Anything you say no to, it's okay.”

Pietro nods a little against Clint's chest, and it makes Clint's heart ache because really, Pietro's sweet. He's a sweet kid, and he's adorable and he works so hard, and he wraps it all up in this shell of I-don't-give-a-fuck, and Clint gets it, he does. He's done that. Fuck, he _does_ that sometimes, when it's all just too hard to deal with.

“Is there anything else?” he prompts after a moment, and Pietro nods again, little jerky motions that are all too telling.

“I do not like to... to kneel.” Pietro's voice is quiet and stilted, like he's not used to being asked what he doesn't like. Like he's not used to someone caring enough to ask. And Clint flashes back to Pietro kneeling out on the track during the beginning of... of this, offering to blow him, and his stomach turns a little.

Reaching up, he slides his fingers into Pietro's hair, stroking it gently. He's about to say something about how Pietro never has to do that again, ever, not on his life, but the kid just kind of... keeps going, hands gesturing out in front of him almost spasmodically. He's talking fast, too, fast enough that Clint's almost worried, but he's going now, and Clint doesn't particularly want to stop him, in case he doesn't want to start again.

“I cannot be in small spaces. They... when the bombs were falling, our home collapsed and Wanda and I were trapped for days and we... we had to push the rubble off ourselves and it was so tight and small and cramped, and I do not deal well with being... _used_ , or, or degraded. They used to... they used to, often.” Pietro's body jerks a little, and his throat clicks like he's gagging, and Clint's moving before he can do much else, helping him sit up straight and suck down a deep breath.

“Hey, there you go. Take it easy. Deep breaths for me, kid, there you go. In and out. You're doing good. So good, you know that? I know this isn't easy.” He scrubs a hand through Pietro's hair before grabbing the glass of water off the nightstand and pressing it to the side of his neck. It's not that cold, but it'll help. “Deep breaths. You okay?”

Pietro nods jerkily, but Clint doesn't move away. Talking about triggers and traumas is never easy, but when they're as bad as what the kid's been through, talking about it can be traumatic in and of itself. “You did _good_ ,” he says, firmly. “Telling me all of that, it was good. It helps me make sure I don't ever, ever make you feel like that.” He pauses, takes a breath, and then stops trying to resist the urge to pull the kid in close. “Hey, c'mere. Can I hug you?”

The permission is all Pietro needs, apparently, because he's sliding into Clint's lap as soon as he's done with the question, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and burying his face in the older man's neck. The action makes Clint realize that the kid's face is wet with tears, and _fuck_ , what he wouldn't do to be able to turn the clock back and take a trip to Sokovia. What he wouldn't give to be able to get to Pietro before everyone else, before he let people hurt him in order to survive.

“You did so good,” he murmurs into the kid's hair. “Easy, now. I've got you. It’s okay, kid.”

* * *

Pietro sleeps in Clint’s bed that night, and wakes up a handful of times sweating and shaking from a nightmare, screaming something in Sokovian. Each time, Clint holds him close and strokes his hair until the boy calms down, and then curls around him until he falls asleep again. It’s intimate in a way they haven’t been yet, and, circumstances aside, Clint finds himself relishing the closeness, the proximity of another heartbeat. 

In the morning, Peitro’s eyes are dark and his shoulders are set a little with tension, but relaxes into the embrace Clint offers him and willingly accepts the nuzzling kisses that the older man presses to his hair.

It’s progress.

**Author's Note:**

> *throws this at you and runs away*
> 
> Sorry about the radio silence, guys. It's been a rough few months for my mental health. But the good news is my chaptered fics should be getting some updates soon!


End file.
